The Dark Man

By Denise Bowen

Kendra is haunted by loss. The only place she can hold her mind together is at home in her new apartment. Her space and her sanity are splintered when a shadowy figure knocks at her front door. She is thrust into the world to find a way to save herself: Is the Dark Man a figment of her frail mind? Is there a hooded stalker looming in the dark? Or is there a supernatural entity bent on destroying her life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Bowen
• Release date: May 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223878353

Denise Bowen

            Denise is a fiction writer and poet who resides in St. Louis, Missouri. She is also the author of Genesis and You're Supposed to Be Having Fun. Denise loves horror films, reading, traveling and gaming. You can find more of her work here: linktr.ee/spicysprite

Book preview

I.

What do you think cats’ thoughts sound like in their heads? Do they meow an inner monologue? Or are their minds silent, just instincts and action?

I laid in bed, under the morning light staring at Cleo, my cat. She abruptly jumped up and started kneading my stomach. I watched as she stared back at me, purring.  I winced, and she stepped off me, directing her attention to the nearby window. She leaped gracefully onto the windowsill and folded her feet under her. She closed her eyes as the direct sunlight washed over her. I stared at her. She looked so peaceful and meditative. My mind wandered back to unanswerable questions about her mind. Does she daydream? Reminisce?

My stomach gurgled. I’d laid in bed until 11am again, obsessing over painfully unchangeable and unknowable things. I’d ignored my body in the process. I looked back at Cleo. I wanted to be her for a day. I wanted to leave my body and all its needs for a day.

I headed for my coffee maker. Mornings went this way. Oversleep, overthink, starve, fire up the coffee maker then start work. I worked from home. It’s lonely. I lacked routine. I filled Cleo’s bowl.

I felt like a strange puppet, not quite inanimate but not in control. The coffeemaker bubbled. Cleo crunched. Standing in my tiny kitchen, I stared around my apartment. The dishes piled in the sink made my stomach feel tight. My living room was in disarray. I hated starting my days so late. I hated eating.

I took a large gulp of my coffee and opened my laptop. Just as I started drafting a thinly veiled clap back to an angry customer, my phone rang. It was Nene. I knew she didn’t have anything to talk about and that I should focus on work, but I answered anyway, just as I’d done since we were 12 years old.

Hey, what are you doing? She said in a sing-song voice. I rolled my eyes.

Girl, you know I’m at work right now. I said. What’s up?

She let out a hacking cough before pushing out her response. Oh, that’s right. My bad. She said, laughing goofily. She was high as a kite. I checked the time. Yep, sounds about right for her. I listened as she took another hit from her blunt and choked once more.

Are you excited about the winery trip this weekend? She said in a raspy voice as she held in smoke.

My stomach tightened again. I’d forgotten all about that damn trip. I didn’t want to celebrate her birthday with her.